


the taste of iron on her lips

by ManChildEvolution



Series: Sakuras Gay lol [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/F, Naruto Rare Pair Bingo 2019, Tea, not a happy fic, sad bitches only, sorry im evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 07:03:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19168210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManChildEvolution/pseuds/ManChildEvolution
Summary: Sakura reflects on the worst part of being a medic: loosing patients.





	the taste of iron on her lips

Hot water gurgles from the spout over the cracked ceramic mug. Hot like blood out of broken skin. It floods over the tea bag and onto opalescent rock. The world smells like iron.

 

For Sakura, the world has always smelled like iron. As a medic, her job was surrounded by blood. It crusted under her nails, splashed over her arms, stained her uniform, muddied the earth, pooled around her lover’s corpse.

 

She holds her finger over the knob a few seconds over, taking a while to realize the water spilling over the edges of her mug. Sakura shiftz the knob in the ‘off’ direction, taking no notice in the boiling water that stung her other hand.

 

She remembered taking notice of the blood. How it stung like acid on her hands, a constant flow from the black chakra rod impaled through her lover’s torso. She would always remember that blood in particular.

 

Red hands fumbled with the cabinet handle, producing a plastic container of honey, sweet like Hinata. Sweet like Hinata had been. Sakura dumped an unmeasured amount of its saccharine poison into the boiling mug. Hinata had always been the one to make tea. Sakura had never listened to her say how much honey she added.

 

Never lost a good friend on the field.

 

Never got to say one last “I love you.”

 

There had been no struggle, for Hinata, it was quick and easy. Her breathing had slowed considerably by the time Sakura was brought to her. Her opalescent eyes, always thinking, had turned glassy and distant. Her gentle face twisted in the agony of failure. It had been swift.

 

Sakura tugs the fridge open, lazily grabbing the jug of milk. She holds the carton parallel to her tea mug and watches as the drops patter in the mixture. Thick white clouds dot the tea, everything smells like iron. Sakura caps the milk jug, and tosses it quickly back to the fridge.

 

The metallic scent continues to waft from the mug, overbearing in the small kitchen of Sakura’s parents. She throws her hands to her nose, then takes them down upon realizing that the bloody scent will haunt her relentlessly.

 

She dips a finger into the mug. It’s hot, uncomfortably so. Hinata’s hands were always warm, but never too hot. They held the firm resilience of hard stone, and yet they were as soft and reassuring as a mother. The tea is too hot. Hot like blood.

 

Sakura’s hands fold around the mug, her fingers thread around the handle. The words “Have a Happy Day!” are scrawled across the side in bold, black lettering. It was Hinata’s favorite mug. An almost ancient birthday present from Kiba.

If she hadn’t known Kiba’s temper, Sakura would have thrown it out by now. She’d thrown everything else out.

 

Sakura’s nose wrinkled as she lifted the cup to her lips. She hated tea usually, but something about Hinata was different. She didn’t mind the blood, usually.

 

She pulls the cup down away from her lips, slamming back onto the countertop. It was brand new, and made entirely of wood, as everything now was. Most of Konoha’s residents huddled together in tents, but as Konoha’s top medic, she and her family had the luxury of one of the newly built mokuton houses.

 

_ Top Medic _ , the words rang in her ears,  _ but who cares, really? It’s all gone to shit now…  _ She raked her nails across the mug. A comatose Tsunade was as good as a dead Tsunade, and with the loss of Kakashi and so many valuable others, that left the village to turn to their final option.

 

Skura dipped her fingers into the cooling tea, watching droplets gather and fall back in. Was that all there was to do now, watch things fall? To see Konoha crumble under Danzo’s militaristic hold, or to watch her team dissolve from four, to three, to two? To see Hinata’s chest rise and fall one last time.

 

Hinata, of course, would not say so. In all their years knowing each other, Sakura had pegged her as the one to give up. The worry wart. The first one to fall. But in Hinata’s final hours, oh how wrong she had proven everyone to be!

  
  


_ Save for the last one _ . The cream-colored substance has cooled to room temperature.

 

No, Hinata would pull her arms around Sakura, and confess every worry and anxiety she held. Then Sakura would confess hers. Then they’d talk about it. Hinata would say to Sakura that she would be strong for her, that she would use everything in her ability to make Sakura feel safe. Then Sakura would remind her that she’s a shinobi too, and god forbid Hinata got into any trouble, lest Sakura would end it with her own two fists.

 

Only, Hinata  _ hadn’t _ use everything in her power to protect Sakura. She’d used it to protect Naruto, and that was the most bitter taste of all. The taste of hot iron.

 

_ Why him? Why not me? _ It was the most selfish thought to penetrate Sakura’s thoughts. Nonetheless, she had never been the selfless one, that was Hinata’s job. She stirred the lukewarm tea with her index finger. Perhaps then, it had only been instinct to sacrifice herself for Naruto. Second nature of the abnegate soldier.

 

Sakura smacks a hand to the side of the mug, sliding it into the sink. The ceramic shatters, the cold, un-drunk tea spills over everything. The world smells like iron.

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
